I'm feeling really irritated that I feel really guilty for still feeling crushed. I explained to my mother that I feel like a sixteen-year-old girl that got pregnant out of wed-lock and had to give her baby up for adoption; I made a choice that would make life better for the baby, but it doesn't mean that I won't feel like hell for a while.
Life is better for the baby, you know. My poor little boy had to endure an extra two and a half hours on the plane because of weather delays. When he finally landed in Amarillo and was signed for by my mother and sister, he was so happy. They let him out of his kennel to play for a bit, and he couldn't have been more excited to see familiar faces. He slept the whole way home on my sister's lap. My mother, being the good and conscious mother that she is, had to call me to ask if he normally snored.
This is Tristan--Pistol's new friend at home. They just sat and sniffed each other at their first introduction. There was some concern that the bigger dog wouldn't know how to play gently with a puppy. My little brother stood by the two of them, ready to pull Tristan off of Pistol or scoop Pistol up and take him away. But Pistol turned out to be quite the tease. He would wildly nip at the bigger dog's neck or leg, then dart back between my brother's legs for protection.
But Tristan is a champ. My mother texted me this morning to let me know that he shared his dog house with my little boy last night. I couldn't ask for more. He's such a patient soul. My family tells me that when the dogs aren't sleeping, they're playing. Tristan likes to come up to the rocks at the bay window, lay down, and feel the warmth that the rocks have absorbed from the sun as he sleeps. Yesterday, he did so with one leg hanging over the edge of the rocks. Apparently, my puppy wasn't ready to sleep yet, and he started nipping at Tristan's leg. Tristan just opened his eye (he's only got one), looked around to acknowledge the situation, then raised and released the leg to send Pistol rolling across the grass. Clearly, it was time to rest.
He's doing so well at home, just happy as much as he was unhappy here. He has great company, a twenty-four hour companion, and a back yard full of mischief to get into. That's all anyone can hope for.
It doesn't make it easier, though. There's too much I will miss out on with the kid. For now, I carry his leash in my backpack as a security blanket, just until the intensity of the loss can pass.
And as much as I hate directly addressing you readers in my blog, almost as though we were having a conversation (it just feels weird), I do have to thank everybody for sympathizing both verbally and in writing. Yes, all of this is just about a dog. But everyone has been so respectful enough to realize how important it's been to me. And every time I blog, I'm just going to expect Crystal to be reading it at the same time. You've commented on the last few posts as I've been writing the next one. It's great to have that little connection with another friend I miss.
Sorry for the disconnected writing and thinking. My form will improve as my head clears.